Seeing Danger in a Face

Passengers exit customs and immigration at the international arrivals terminal at Newark Liberty International Airport, on Thursday.CreditGeorge Etheredge for The New York Times

San Francisco — Every day, American citizens are detained in windowless rooms at international airports with little to no scrutiny. I am not referring to airports in some foreign country; I am referring to our airports here in the United States. I know, because it happened to me.

Earlier this month, I was returning to San Francisco from a trip to Armenia and Greece. Without a single question, but with careful scrutiny of my face and Middle Eastern features, an agent from the Department of Homeland Security at San Francisco International Airport ordered me to a room in the back of the terminal. As I headed to the detention area, I had many thoughts racing through my head. The biggest one, however, was practical: How does detaining, based on his appearance, a San Francisco prosecutor who has spent most of his professional career advancing public safety, make America safer?

After about an hour of waiting, my interrogator came to ask me some questions. He asked me about my trip to Armenia, whether I had attempted to sneak into Turkey or Syria during my vacation, whether I had visited any refugee camps and whether I had joined any groups like ISIS. These are astoundingly ignorant questions. For one thing, I am an Armenian-American whose family escaped the Lebanese Civil War over 35 years ago. As a descendant of the Armenian Genocide, a genocide perpetrated by Turks, there is absolutely no logical reason I would sneak into Turkey from Armenia (especially since Turkey has blockaded that border). Furthermore, as an Armenian, I am a Christian, and as Armenians in Syria and Iraq have experienced, meeting with jihadist groups would have led to my kidnapping and possible beheading.

It wasn’t until some time into my questioning that the officer asked what I did for a living. I told him I was a prosecutor in the San Francisco district attorney’s office, a fact that could have been revealed with a simple Google search. My detention ended shortly after that information came to light. What never came to light, however, is why they detained me in the first place. They never gave me a straight answer, and I have very few avenues for recourse. My detention was well within the rules.

The ham-handed nature of my interrogation is worth recounting, because it points to the nature of racial profiling, and its widespread use at our borders. Even if I had been a Muslim American, what connection would my appearance or religion have to my potential risk to national security?

To answer that question, one must first try to understand why racial profiling occurs. It is born from misplaced and unjustified fear, among other more morally bankrupt reasons. That fear creates racist policies in our country, and not just at our borders: You can see it in the over-policing of predominantly African-American neighborhoods, the over-incarceration of African-Americans, the calls for mass deportations of Latino immigrants and the internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II. In each case, one’s identity, or skin color, or religion is taken as sufficient evidence of a dangerous intent. Some will try to disavow the racism by saying that these traits are simply a convenient proxy, but it amounts to the same thing. If you detain Muslims at the airport because of a stereotype about Muslims and terror, the problem isn’t them.

I am not saying there should not be extensive security at airports. As someone in law enforcement, I believe wholeheartedly that there should be. But the current policy of detaining people at airports based on the way they look is not only unconstitutional, it also fails to make us safe. Racial profiling fails all of us because we all know danger comes from people who can look like anyone. Profiling also loses the hearts and minds of the citizens the government is supposed to be working for. It begets the question: If my country does not love me, why should I continue to love my country? And if I as a public servant am beginning to have that question creep in my mind, what are others thinking on our streets and in our airports?

I went back and forth about writing this. Perhaps, it would have been in my best interest to let the incident go. However, I’ve been racially profiled at the airport before — and so have my brother, my father and most likely hundreds if not thousands of other American citizens who look just like me. I’ve also been profiled in the streets. These experiences are part of why I became a prosecutor: to find a way to be part of the solution rather than complain about the problem. But these experiences are taxing. I can’t change my face, I can’t change my features, nor should I have to fly overseas in a tuxedo to make airport authorities feel more at ease.

We are a nation of laws, and no policy should be above some level of accountability and scrutiny. And, at the very least, as an American citizen, I should be constitutionally entitled to know why I have been detained. The minute we stop being a nation of laws is when we no longer are the United States of America.

Alex Bastian is the deputy chief of staff at the San Francisco District Attorney’s Office and a native San Franciscan.